


And What Did You Do

by CaptainIronAvenger1996



Series: Gotham's Supernatural Drabbles [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Supernatural, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Bobby and Alfred are the best, Gen, crossover fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 03:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8428981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainIronAvenger1996/pseuds/CaptainIronAvenger1996
Summary: This is the first drabble for a series I'm writing in the future, a Batman/Supernatural crossover. 
Bobby wasn't sure exactly how he had ended up bonding with a British former Black Ops soldier but he knew that he was grateful he'd found the butler. Both of them had given so much for their loved ones it was nice to just sit for a spell and reminisce with someone who understood.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me if you think this is a relationship you'd like to see more of! And feel free to shoot me a message about any ideas you might have for this universe! I'd love to hear from you all!

Ever since Dean or rather Jason had come back into his life Bobby was damn near almost content with his life as a Hunter. Jason had found Sam and taken his brother into their strange family of, dare he say it, vigilantes, and thus given Sam more stability than he’d had in years. Bobby himself was starting to feel the family grow on him especially the butler of the family, Alfred Pennyworth. There was something about the man that Bobby had instantly connected with, he was a kindred spirit if Bobby had ever seen one. On some nights when the Bats were out Bobby and Ruffus would sneak into the Wayne manor just to see the older gentleman. 

Both the Wayne family and the Winchester family were broken but together they made a better family than either could ever have dreamed of finding on their own. Jason had grown into a wonderful man just like Bobby had always hoped he would and he knew that Alfred had played an integral part in his upbringing. The older Hunter knew that Dean would have anger at the world when he grew up but after hearing his story, hearing how he’d been brutally murdered only to be brought back to life, ripped away from whatever kind of Heaven he’d finally been able to find after 15 years of fighting the war the boy had called his life, it made sense that he would have come back angrier than he’d ever been.   
The Red Hood had made quite an impression on the crime world, a world Hunters were deeply involved in due to how they had to obtain half of their information and to find out the little boy he’d watched over while his daddy drank himself stupid had ripped his heart to shreds; how had Jason even managed to find himself on the list of the world’s top government organizations in such a short time? Tossing such thoughts aside Bobby focused once more on the British man in front of him. 

“The Bats out for the night Alfred?”

“Indeed Master Singer, Master Bruce has taken the boys out on patrol while the girls have all decided to have a girl’s night out they called it; I dare not ask any more than that. I’m afraid they might tell me what all a night out would entail.”

Bobby let out a huff as the man placed a delicate cup of tea in front of the gruff hunter who gave it a grimace. Alfred raised an eyebrow at the man, “I’m not certain as to what my china has ever done to you Master Singer but I would greatly appreciate if you would quit glaring at it; tis merely a cup of tea.”

From underneath his trucker hat, Bobby glared up at Alfred before over-cautiously picking up the cup by the handle and taking a sip of herbal tea. He always felt like he’d break the damn thing by touching it, he wasn’t used to small and breakable things like fancy china and being waited on by a butler, “The tea is good Alfred, I still wish you’d share your secret with me.”

“Perhaps it is because I do not find it necessary to bathe every single beverage I make with liquor of some sorts?” 

“Now that was uncalled for Alfred,” Bobby gave the man a grin as he took another sip, forgetting all about his hesitance from earlier. 

Alfred merely inclined his head in apology before setting a plate of blueberry scones on the table and taking a seat in front of the Hunter. “Master Jason made some scones before he left with everyone else, do try some. That boy missed his calling in life as a chef, he’d give that Ramsey a run for his money I’m sure.”

Bobby picked up a scone and took a huge bite out of it and gave an appreciative hum as the pastry practically melted in his mouth, “I still find it hard to believe that Jason is such a talented chef.” 

“You should have seen the boy when he first arrived here, he almost fainted when he found out I was a butler and not the Master’s grandfather.” Alfred gave a wry smile as he recalled the day fondly.

With a laugh of his own Bobby could just see little Jason stammering an apology to the old man when he was told of his position, the boy always did have a habit of just blurting things out when they came to his mind, “I can only imagine how long he apologized for that one Alfred.” 

“Oh for many months I assure you. I eventually threatened to move his books if he did not quit apologizing every time he laid eyes upon me.”

The old Hunter snorted into his tea as the butler told him of his threat, “That’s cold Alfred. You know how much the boy needs organization!”

Without missing a beat the butler raised an eyebrow as he met Bobby’s laughing gaze without an inch of remorse, “Precisely.” 

“Remind me to never get on your bad side Alfred…” Bobby almost felt sorry for Jason, it seems that the true force behind the Batman’s legacy had been greatly exaggerated in the stories. The man didn’t thrive because of his morals or training, with a man like Alfred to raise him it’s no wonder the man was able to strike fear into the heart of Gotham’s scariest and most feared crime lords. 

He scared Bobby and Bobby had faced down Lucifer himself. 

 

 

“Of course the boy always has had a knack for languages. At the moment I believe he speaks well above 20 different languages, and that’s all I’m aware of at the moment.” 

Bobby let out a whistle, “I remember when we first started going over Latin, the boy certainly picked it up quickly. I thought it was just because he was dedicated to hunting.”   
Alfred gave a smile towards the older man with a wicked gleam in his eyes, “Oh trust me his dedication helped but he had a little…incentive.”

“What did you do Alfred?”

The butler got out of his seat to take the dishes to the sink, “I’m hurt by your suggestions Master Singer.” 

Bobby rolled his eyes with a scoff, “Don’t give me that load of bull Alfred. You’re a sneaky son of a bitch if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Language Master Singer! I dare say it’s no longer a mystery as to where Master Jason learned his extensive vocabulary.”

Not even bothering to hide his smirk Bobby took out the flask of whiskey he always carried on his person and unscrewed the top, taking a big swig while his eyes never left Alfred’s disapproving face. And just for the hell of it Bobby raised his other hand and flipped the bird at Alfred, the butler’s face twisting from disapproval to outright indignation. 

The butler decided that the Hunter’s actions didn’t even deserve a comment and continued like he’d never been interrupted, “Master Jason was always fond of Shakespeare and so one day while I was doing the shopping I came across a used bookstore,”

Alfred set the cups in the sink, his eyes taking on a far-away gaze. Bobby felt straightened his posture and put on his listening ears, “I can’t tell you what drew me in but on that day I just felt compelled to look into the store and it was like I’d been transported back in time. There were so many books, all worn and used, books far beyond Master Jason’s time. My eyes fell upon a copy of Macbeth, Master Jason’s favorite, and couldn’t resist buying it for the boy.” 

Something broke in Bobby when he saw tears gathering in Alfred’s gaze. He might not have known Alfred for very long but the man seemed larger than life, the man was one of Jason’s rocks in life if not his biggest one. Jason had told him many stories about how Alfred had been the one to comfort him, to care for him; to see the one man that Jason looked up to like a grandfather in such a state seemed so wrong to Bobby. 

“It was only once I got home that I noticed something about the book,” Alfred continued with the story, oblivious to Bobby’s train of thought, “I saw that the book was in French. Of course, I felt so foolish! I had been so preoccupied that I didn’t even notice that the boy wouldn’t even be able to read the book. I had set it on the counter so I could pick it up to return the book to the bookstore when Master Jason came waltzing into the kitchen and laid his eyes upon it.” 

He didn’t even need to be there to know what Jason’s eyes had looked like, those eyes just lit up like fireworks. It seemed like Alfred knew that too because he paused and let a kind smile slip onto his face, “The boy was so enamored by the book that he didn’t even care it wasn’t in English. I told him that I planned to return it but once he learned that he begged me to let him keep it. I wasn’t sure exactly what he planned to do but when he came home the next day he rushed to get his homework done and shot into the library like someone had set a fire behind him.

I didn’t see him for hours after that but when I went to take Master Bruce his evening coffee I saw a fire in the library. It appeared that Master Jason found all the French linguistic books he could get his hands on and devoured them. Every night for two weeks he lived and breathed in that library, Master Bruce was worried that something had gone wrong but once I explained he told me that he was sure Jason could get a handle on the language. After two weeks Master Jason sought me out one evening while I was preparing dinner and asked me if I was free after dinner.” 

Bobby took another sip of his flask while he made himself comfortable, listening to the story of how the man they both loved discovered his love of languages many years ago.   
“That evening I sat down with Master Jason and he began to read to me. He read the play of Macbeth to me in perfect French, like he’d been speaking it all his life. I was…I was stunned. The boy had been able to get a handle on an entire language in a mere two weeks, was able to read an entire play in 14 days. I had never seen anything like it and from that point on I helped Master Jason pursue his new talent to the full extent of my abilities.” 

Coming back to himself, Alfred reached up and wiped away the remnants of his tears from earlier before he shot Bobby a small smile, “So you see Master Singer your accusations were completely uncalled for in this case.”

Snorting to himself Bobby rolled his eyes, “In this case Alfred. So, can I blame you for his apparent talent in cooking as well?”

“That, Master Singer, is completely out of my hands. The boy could already cook before he came here. Now if I happened to be out of the kitchen more often than usual than really how could I know what the boy got up to while I was out? Now, what exactly can I blame you for aside from Master Jason’s explicit vocabulary Master Singer?”

The kitchen window showed the moon hanging high above in the sky, Bobby focusing on that while he thought of what he had to offer Jason compared to Alfred before a thought popped into his brain, “I taught him how to throw a mean curve ball.” 

Alfred raised an eyebrow, “You were the one to teach Master Jason the game of baseball?”

A big grin cracked across the gruff hunter’s bearded face, “Guilty as charged.” 

“In that case Master Singer, I’m afraid I’m tempted to throw you out of this very house.” 

Bobby raised an eyebrow at the butler’s arched tone, “Now what am I being blamed for? All I did was teach the kid how to throw a ball!”

“Those curve balls that you taught the young master,” Alfred gave Bobby a pointed look, “was the cause of many of many broken windows in this house. Not to mention he took your lessons to heart. Master Bruce was never able to break him of the habit of throwing curved batarangs.”

There was an awkward moment of silence before Bobby pointed took a sip of coffee that had appeared in front of him at some point, “Oops.” 

“Yes.” A dry tone, “Oops indeed.”


End file.
